A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(52)

Bethanne handed her daughter the map. “You might want to take a look to get an idea of how big Texas is.”

“Mo-om, I know my geography.”

“How far is Amarillo from Branson?”

“According to MapQuest,” Annie said a few minutes later, studying her phone, “it’s almost nine hours.” She groaned with frustration.

“We’ll need to find a place for the night,” Ruth said, arching her back. “I’m beginning to go stir-crazy in this car.”

“We should spend a couple of days in Branson,” Bethanne suggested. “Shake off the road dust and let down our hair.”

“Two days.” Annie flopped back in her seat.

“I’ve always dreamed of seeing Andy Williams in concert,” Ruth said wistfully. “And now it’s about to become a reality.”

“That’s always been my dream, too,” Annie muttered sarcastically.

“Annie,” Bethanne said. “This is your grandmother’s trip.” Those words were a now-familiar refrain.

“I suppose I’ll have to wait until I’m in my sixties before I see the Alamo?”

Bethanne smothered a laugh. “Then you’ll appreciate it all the more, the same way your grandmother’s looking forward to seeing her teenage idol.”

“Whatever.” Annie slouched down in the seat. “I wrote an essay on it, you know,” she said righteously. “I got an A.” She closed her eyes, apparently picturing Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie making their last stand.

Just before they left the state of Texas, Bethanne stopped at a Dairy Queen for ice cream, which made for a small break. Several police and fire department vehicles were parked outside. Long ago Bethanne had read a comment that Dairy Queen restaurants were like city halls in Texas—the one establishment where everyone convened.

For reasons she didn’t even want to consider, she removed her cell from her purse and typed a text message to Max. She didn’t know if he’d receive it or if he’d respond. All she said was:

Spending two nights in Branson, MO.

She hesitated before she pushed the send button, but sent it, anyway.

What was she doing? She felt like a first-time shoplifter certain to be caught. Regardless of all her assertions that what she did was her own business, she didn’t want Ruth or Annie to know.

“You okay?” Annie asked.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Bethanne realized that, once again, she must look guilty. Why else would Annie question her? In fact, she felt guilty. She’d resolved to reconcile with Grant, or at least try, and yet she’d impulsively contacted Max….

“Mom!” Annie nudged her. “Your ice cream’s melting all over your hand.”

“Oh.” She looked down to discover that Annie was right. In the warm sun the soft-serve ice cream had melted and dripped down her wrist.

“Here.” Ruth passed her a wad of napkins.

Bethanne licked away at the cone but soon realized it was a lost cause and tossed the entire mess into a nearby garbage can.

Back on the road with Ruth driving, Bethanne fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She stared out the window and chewed on her fingertip. Even knitting didn’t help.

“What’s wrong with you?” Annie demanded.

“Why should anything be wrong?”

“How would I know?”

It wasn’t until they stopped for the night that Bethanne had a chance to look for Max’s reply, if there was one. Her eyes widened when she saw it. She held her breath. His response was simple:

I’ll meet you there.

Snapping the cell phone closed, she held it against herself only to find both Ruth and Annie studying her curiously. She exhaled and carefully set her phone aside.

Annie leaped off the bed, stalked over to the dresser and grabbed Bethanne’s cell. She opened it and frowned at the screen. “Mother!”

“What did she do now?” Ruth asked.

“She’s meeting Max in Branson.”

“Now listen,” Bethanne said. “First of all, Annie, what you’ve done is rude and it’s an invasion of my privacy. Secondly, I make my own decisions and I’m telling you right now, the more you pressure me into going back to Grant the more attractive Max looks. Unless I figure out how I feel about Max, I’ll never be happy with Grant.”

Ruth shrugged and got her book from her economy-size purse. “What you decide is up to you. You’re over twenty-one.”

“Way over.” Annie threw herself down on the bed.

“Thank you.” Bethanne felt better for having spoken her mind, although she could have done without Annie’s comment.

Her daughter plugged in the earbuds to her iPod and lay back, eyes closed.

Bethanne took a long, hot shower, crawled into bed beside Annie and opened her book. She read late. Both Annie and Ruth were asleep by the time she turned off her light.

Although it was past midnight and they had every intention of getting an early start in the morning, Bethanne couldn’t sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was Max. Not Grant. Max.

He planned to meet her in Branson. She didn’t know where he was when he got her message. Apparently, close enough to Missouri to get to Branson by the following afternoon. She wondered if Rooster was traveling with him. She didn’t like the thought of him on the road alone, although she understood that was often the case.